Denial A Petter Pettigrew Tale
by sirussblack
Summary: An okay story on my part. Short, pointless, and blah. Enjoy!


YEAR: 1977  
  
Peter knew that he was wrong. He knew he shouldn't have, but he did. He remembered his wand. The nine inch wand made of oak. He remembered when it snapped in half. He wanted to get a new one, but didn't have the chance to.  
  
After his seventh year, without a wand, he ran. Peter didn't know where he was going, but he knew he didn't like what his life was turning out to be.  
  
When he was getting a rope, ready to hang himself, a man with a cloak came out of the mist.  
  
At first, Peter wanted to run. He was scared, as he always was. He had always been scared easily. Scared of losing someone, like he did his parents.  
  
The voice was very low, but Peter knew he was telling the truth. "Come with me and I will make everything all better." The cloaked man came closer and smiled.  
  
"Are...are...is there anything I have to do?" Peter asked, nervous.  
  
The cloak blew around in the wind. "Just follow me and everything will be all right."  
  
Peter than started to walk slowly. "Y-yes."  
  
"Very good. Now, come." The cloaked man motioned for Peter and he caught up.  
  
TIME: 1979  
  
Now, Peter was sitting at a long table, looking straight into the face of the all feared Dark Lord himself.  
  
"Now, Peter. I need you to get Nagini for me. I'm thirsty." Voldemort said, snapping his bony fingers.  
  
Peter got up from the chair and said, "Right away, Master." Peter than scurried off to find Nagini.  
  
He wandered through the dusty halls, whispering, "Nagini...Nagini..." Peter found her in an old Muggle style bathroom. Peter turned on the dusty electrical light and motioned to Nagini.  
  
The snake uncurled herself from around the cracked sink and followed Peter into the room where Voldemort sat.  
  
Peter than sat back down in his chair.  
  
"Peter, get some milk out of Nagini. I don't feel good enough." Voldemort said, even though he knew that Peter knew he was fine.  
  
Peter got up once again and muttered, "Yes, Master." Peter than walked over to Nagini.  
  
TIME: 1994  
  
Peter felt pain. He looked down and saw his robes shining with blood, like a bloody sunset.  
  
"My Lord..." Peter tried to choke out. "My Lord...you promised...you did promise..." Peter said, in pain.  
  
"Hold out your arm," said Voldemort lazily.  
  
Though reluctant, Peter did. "Oh Master...thank you, Master..."  
  
He extended the bleeding stump, but Voldemort laughed.  
  
Peter gulped.  
  
"Ah! The other arm, Wormtail."  
  
Peter kept his arm in. "Master, please...please..."  
  
Voldemort bent down and pulled out Peter's left arm; he forced the sleeve of his robes up past his elbow. Voldemort looked at Peter's mark intently.  
  
Peter cried. He couldn't hold it in any longer. Voldemort was going to kill him.  
  
"It is back," Voldemort said softly, "they will all have noticed it...and now, we shall see...now we shall know..."  
  
He pressed his long white forefinger to the brand on Peter's arm.  
  
Peter saw Harry, tied to a stone, wince in pain.  
  
Voldemort than threw back his head and looked around the graveyard.  
  
At that time, Peter looked at his mark. It had turned jet black, like the night sky. He breathed a sigh of relief and looked at what was happening...  
  
***  
  
"Why can't I be immortal?"  
  
"Because, my dear follower, you are a mere toy. A fool." Voldemort said, chuckling.  
  
"If I'm such a fool, why the hell did you help me?" Peter asked, angrily.  
  
Voldemort sighed. "Because, you are the perfect one to help me heal. Also, you are my only faithful follower."  
  
"There are others." Peter said sternly.  
  
"No, they are all off somewhere having a good time. You...you stuck with me." Voldemort said, glaring.  
  
"Yes, but..."  
  
"Until my rise comes, you are my only faithful one." Voldemort said.  
  
"How do you know your rise will come?" Peter asked suspiciously.  
  
"I know. I know." Voldemort said.  
  
***  
  
"You were brave." Voldemort said.  
  
"Thank you, Master. Thank you..." Peter said, bowing.  
  
"Don't bow you pitiful fool." Voldemort scowled.  
  
They were in an abandoned Muggle home, near the one that they had stayed in earlier.  
  
"Remember this, Wormtail, that you will never mean a thing to me. You are filth. A piece of sh-"  
  
Then, Nagini slithered in.  
  
"Go away," Voldemort hissed.  
  
The snake went right back out into the hallway.  
  
"Never...ever...say...anything...about this...talk." Peter said.  
  
"Are you giving me orders?" Voldemort eyed Peter.  
  
"No...I...I'm sorry, Master."  
  
Voldemort turned away. "You'd better be..."  
  
Chapter Two: Nothing But A Pack of Lies  
  
TIME: 1980  
  
Peter was proud. He was made the Secret Keeper for the Potters, but when his Lord, Voldemort asked him where the Potters were, he needed to tell, and did.  
  
A few nights later it was horrible. The Potters were killed and Peter was to blame.  
  
Peter felt bad. His Dark Lord was dead, at least that is all he knew. The Potters were dead.  
  
Peter picked up that day's issue of the Daily Prophet and read:  
  
Lily and James Potter – Dead!  
  
Last night was a sad night, in which famous Lily and James Potter were  
killed by the ever growing You-Know-Who. Though, tonight, there son was saved. No wizard or witch knows how, but Harry J. Potter was not killed,  
but a curse must've backfired, killing You-Know-Who.  
  
Peter went on and after he was finished, he muttered, "Nothing...that wasn't my fault. It was nothing but a pack of lies." 


End file.
